You Have Fallen in Every Way Imaginable
by LifelessLil
Summary: Dean and Castiel are actually killers and though they've never met, they do seem to share a similar philosophy. S meeting was inevitable it seemed, but this may not have been the way either of them imagined.


**_A messed up fic I am writing at two in the morning based on nothing really except the fact that Dean really is actually a killer (who kills other killers I guess) and Castiel is crazy (for Dean lol) honestly I don't know where this came from and I'm really sorry._**

_Trigger warning: scenes contain blood, gore, violent thoughts, graphic explanations, other things that may be triggers. This is a story about murder and murderers. You have been warned._

* * *

You Have Fallen in Every Way Imaginable

"What you've created is ungodly and monstrous," the handsome young man in the trench coat informed the bleeding older gentleman tied to a support beam in a rotting house far away from anywhere one would think to look for either of them. The younger man pulled a blade from his an inner pocket admiring the way the light reflected of it's polished surface. "You have gone against God and I am here now to cleanse you before you are sent to be judged."

The older man struggled against his binds.

"Mruph. Murphrumf," the words were muffled by the rag in his mouth. The devil could spread so many lies with his wretched tongue. Better he not speak at all.

"You must be cleansed before you are sent to meet with our father," the youth continued kneeling in front of the injured party who merely made more muffled noise through the rag.

"No, it is not a painless process, but trust me, it'll be worth it." The young man gave a smile that was surely meant to be reassuring, but came across more crazed than anything else. "You will be saved."

* * *

"...and another body was found in Maine today, the body of Roman Industries CEO, Dick Roman," the news caster on the TV said. Dean had left the news on as mere background noise while he had been cleaning his guns, but this story had caught his attention. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

"First thought to be the work of a crazed new cult, now inside sources say they believe it to be the work of a new mass murder," the newscaster continued. "Due to the markings found etched into the bodies, police suspect a religious affiliation to these murders. Anyone who has any information is asked to please contac-"

Dean shut down the TV off. The sudden quite in the dingy motel room was overpowered by the millions of thoughts going through his head at that moment. The most overpowering one of them all being,_ how am I going to catch this one?_

Dean knew quite a bit about these types. For instance, every serial killer had a pattern, even Dean. Dean's preferred prey was those who preyed on others. A hunter, you might say, because the people he hunted down were less than human; they were monsters. But what Dean had learned from his previous hunts is that every monster had a pattern, and Dean was sure this one was no different.

* * *

His blade cut through the woman's flesh like butter, creating the smoothest of lines. It was like art. The dark red of the blood sliding across the pale white of her skin while the sliver blade shimmered in his hands. He was making her right again. He was making her pure. He was making her worthy.

"You know," the young man with the piercing blue eye said, his voice calm as if the were both standing at a bus stop waiting for the next shuttle, "you really did bring this down on yourself." His blade traced a long arch from the woman's shoulder to her belly button and a muffled scream came from her mouth as she try to squirm away from the pain. "You said all the things that you did while in office were in the name of God, but God doesn't talk to you."

He draws another perfect etching into her skin. Her muffled screams like the holiest gosples ever written. Proof of her healing.

"He talks to me though, and you see," Another curving line and muffled cry, "he is very upset at what you've been doing. Don't worry. I will make it right, and then you can go apologize to him yourself."

Tears fell down her blood smeared cheeks, more muffled words. "I've heard he's very forgiving."

The knife pierced the woman's chest silencing any more noises she would've made.

* * *

"Due to the body of Senator Michelle Walker's body found this morning in Pennsylvanian, the FBI has now declared lead on this case. The religious affiliations that continue to be carved into their bodies have enthusiast dubbing these murders "A Work of God." An anonymous internet group has given the murderer the name Castiel, Angel of the Lord. An uncommon amount of people have been giving these murders unprecedented coverage on social media sites and some religious groups rallied have to support these murders. Some are even claiming it is the work of notorious Righteous Man Killer who had similar philosophy towards his victims, but has fallen off the radar for the past few months. FBI have claimed there is no correlation between the two at this point. More as the story updates."

* * *

Dean looked over every piece of information he could find on this Castiel killer. So far it seemed that whoever it was seemed to target those who had "gone against God's will" as some of the blogs he'd come across had put it. That was the simple part though. The real problem Dean was having was tracking a geological pattern. This Castiel seemed to have no set pattern. It may have been his way of evading the authorities, but it seemed more like he simply moved on an unknown agenda. the kills of the last few months have been inconsistent and in no linear pattern that he could discern.

Dean sighed and pushed the endless map and notes scrawled on random sheets of paper. There was no way Dean would be able to track this killer down with the current way things were looking. Which meant, if Dean couldn't track him down, he'd have to bring the bastard to Dean. Unfortunately that would mean doing something risky, something... public.

* * *

Castiel was sitting in the waiting room of a hospital when the news flashed across the TV screen. It was just a grainy, black and white security video, but the actions being committed were clear. The Righteous Man had cornered local workers of a bank in New Orleans into a vault, cocked his gun, and then looked up at the camera and gave a cheeky wink right before opening fire on the occupant's of the vault.

"The Death toll is said to be 17 with one man critically injured in the hospital. The man seen by witnesses running from the scene matched descriptions of earlier sightings of the killer known as the Righteous Man. Police, baffled by the break in the Righteous Man's break in pattern, later discovered that the Bank had been a front for a drug smuggling ring. Police..."

Castiel smiled to himself as he stood up from where he'd been sitting for the past hour. God had sent him on this mission, told him about the next man he'd set free. But, to think that he was the soul survivor of the righteous Man's latest purging, well that was something. Castiel made his way down the abandoned halls to the room in he'd seen in his dream. The guard posted outside the door was fast asleep and Castiel had no problems entering the room, locking the door behind him.

The man was still in an induced coma from the surgery he'd just gotten out of and wouldn't waken for many hours now. If Castiel had his way, he wouldn't be waking at all.

"I'm going to send you to a much better place. You will be saved," the man whispered, removing his tan trench coat and taking out his favorite blade before placing the article on the chair next to the bed. As he discarded the hospital robe Castiel noticed strange markings on the man's back, not made by a surgeon's blade. Turning the man over for a closer inspection he saw they were crudely carved angel wings spreading across both shoulder blades. In between them was a message carved in flesh. _Have you been saved?_

* * *

Dean knew that this Castiel character had gotten his message. Not ten hours after Dean himself had gotten out of state and into this dingy motel room had the news popped up on the TV. The soul survivor Dean had left had been found dead with the same carvings that Castiel had used on the rest of his victims. It hadn't been easy to track him down and in the end it was more of a guess on pure luck that he even was in the same state as Castiel in the first place. He'd almost chosen New Mexico with a corrupt bishop, but something made him choose New Orleans.

And Dean's labors were not without fruit. Along with the report of the Heavenly solider's last kill, a video from the hospital security footage had caught the man's face. The still set photo's showed a man of average height and dark hair in a light colored trench coat of some sort leaving the victim's room. The strange thing was that this man could have left without once getting his face caught on any camera, but instead it seemed almost as if he look directly for the camera. When he found it he actually smiled and waved as if nothing was the matter.

Dean stared at the picture he'd printed off and hung in the middle of his notes. He had a face, which is far more than he'd had before. And, no thanks to the news stations, he didn't have so much as a name or where he lived. (either because the FBI still didn't know or they weren't sharing the information with the public.) The crazed man had smiled and waved straight at the camera, no straight at Dean, accepting the unspoken challenge, but in a way that gave him no more of a head start than he'd had before putting his neck on the line to send the stupid message. This man was infuriating like no one else Dean had hunted.

* * *

God had spoken to Castiel and he had told him many things. Not only where the corrupt and unclean were ad how to save them, but also about a man. A man just like him that had been taken from the pits of hell on earth to save the world. God only ever called him the Righteous Man, but now, thanks to the video footage left at the bank, Castiel had a new name for him. Dean. Dean Winchester.

Castiel had wanted to meet this Righteous Man himself since God had made mention him, but He had also said it was not the right time. Castiel had to wait for Dean to come to him, when he was ready. God had been right, of course. Dean had come to him. He had asked to be saved; asked Castiel to save him. Now was the time to meet and Castiel Knew just the place for them to do it.

* * *

It had been three weeks since Dean had put a face to the name Castiel and a couple more days since then until he put a real name to that face (with a little help from an old friend, Bobby). With that help he had been able to compile a small history on the man, but nothing about it seemed ordinary. A normal man with an average job who was God-fearing and went to church every Sunday. There was no indicators on what made him snap at all. One day his wife reported him missing after he did't come home one evening and that was it. So, what had made him slip?

Dean didn't have time to mull the question for long before a loud cracking noise was heard from the floor below him as the rotting door of the place was seemingly kicked in. Ever since his public display, Dean had been hiding in more remote places where he would be less likely to be sought out. This place was about a ten minute drive to the nearest town that held about 300 people. Dean highly doubted that it was a full scale police raid, but being cautious he grabbed for his closest gun anyway and sat quietly, listening.

A single pair of boots at an even stride walked until they were about centered with the front room. Dean heard no other noises for a while. No body else it seemed, inside or out, was here; just a single body downstairs.

"I know you're here Dean," a deep, male voice called. "I was sent to find you."

_Yeah, you and a hundred other cops,_ Dean thought to himself. _None of them ever caught me either._

"Didn't you want to know if I had been saved?" the voice asked the open air, and that phrase, at question alone, brought realization down on top of him.

Dean rose slowly ad walked as quietly as he could to the door. His gun held at ready, he let the door creak open to where he could step out into the hall, the missing walls of the abandoned place allowing both of the men clear view of each other.

"Hello Dean," the scruffy man below said with a smile. "You are much more attractive than you picture have lead me to believe."

I seemed like an odd thing to say, but Castiel, if this was him, did differ from Dean's expectations as well. He was slightly smaller and more built and yes more attractive as well.

"Jimmy, Dean greeted, using the man's given name as well. "You are much shorter than I pictured an 'Angel of the Lord'," Dean snarked, still not lowering his weapon.

"My name is Castiel. Jimmy isn't here anymore. And I don't see how my physical stature in any way would-"

"It was sarcasm, and fine, Castiel. Can I call you cas?" Dean asked.

"If you wish, Cas said calmly.

Dean nodded getting to the point. "How about you just tell me how it was you found me."

"Well, it's simple really," the man said, all smiles (which Dean was beginning to think looked a bit crazed, like something had broken inside his head) "God told me where to find you."

Right and there it was. "Yes, I'm sure he did. Why don't you just check yourself into a psych ward and do us all a favor and let the nice men in white coats help you out with that."

"I'm not crazy," Cas said, smile gone and all serious now.

"I'm sure you're not," Dean drawled.

"If God didn't tell me where you were how did I find you then?" he asked.

"Basic process of elimination," Dean reasoned. The same way I ended up finding you."

"God also told me about you. How you have a brother that you practically raised because your father was neglectful after your mother died. He told me how your father was your first kill. You were trying to protect your brother right? You had taken enough beatings from the man, saved your brother the pain by taking his share as well. That hit was the last time. He never raised a hand to you or your brother again could he?" Dean tried to ignore him. He tried to not let Castiel's words have their desired effects. "You had to leave after that didn't you? Had to leave before Sam found out what you'd done? Better he be aloe than faced with a killer for a brother." Dean's temper was rising fast and it was getting harder for him to hold is gun straight. This man had no right to his family details. " How would I know how you felt the first time that letter opener sliced through your father's ribs? How you finally felt in control, like you didn't have to hide who you were any longer? How-"

"STOP IT NOW!" Dean screamed, rage making veins pop from his face heated with rising anger. "You don't know anything! You're just spinning stories based on general facts you could get from a simple Google search. A child could do it."

"You think me a child, Dean?" Castiel asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Yeah, you're basically a baby in a trench coat," dean accused. "I know facts about you too. Born and raised in God's country. A very religious house hold I'm sure. Strict parents too. You did everything mommy and daddy told you to. Got the job they wanted you to. Wore the clothes they wanted. Probably even married the woman they picked for you, did't you?" Castiel looked at him with a blank expression. None of this seemed to phase him like it had Dean. He needed to go deeper. "Your daughter, do you even love her? Or were you just going through the motions of that life like you did everything else? When did you finally realize that everything you were was complete and utter bullshit? Is that why you snapped? Killed your minister friend?"

"He was not a friend," Castiel asserted angrily.

"Right,he was Jimmy's friend," Dean reasoned. "But you're not Jimmy are you?"

"No I am not," Jimmy was the person who wanted all those things, a family, a steady job, a house. I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord and I was sent here on a mission."

"What mission? What do you want!?" Dean screamed at him.

"Castiel gave him a sly, crooked smile. "I want to be the one to grip you tight and raise you from perdition."

"Yeah," Dean Scoffed, "and how do you plan on doing that?"

"By destroying the last tie you have to this world," Castiel explained, his smile growing even larger. "I'm going to kill Sam Winchester."

* * *

What happened next was a blur of action and gunshots and spilt blood on rotting wood. Castiel had been warned by God that Dean wouldn't take the news of his brother's death well, but to think that he would completely miss everything Castiel was trying to do for him. Castiel guessed it was a bit much for a mere being of human status to see, the over laying implications of his actions, but Castiel couldn't help but think that if Dean would have just let him explain... well, maybe this way was for the best.

Dean Winchester seemed the kind of man that needed to be taught hands on, and Castiel was a fine teacher if there ever was one. Plus, Dean still needed to find his brother whereas Castiel already knew where he was thanks to some divine help. It was the best head start he could ask for really. Now if only he could get the bleeding in his shoulder to stop, he might make it far enough to rest properly before he gave in to blood loss.

* * *

Dean didn't have long. This Cas fellow had gotten in a good hit with so me old timber before Dean had brought him down with a shot to his shoulder. It was only a minor concussion at worst, Nothing the rough killer hadn't delt with before.

No, the real problem lay in finding his brother before this psychopath did. Dean had lost track of him through the years. He'd had to, for his brother's sake. His brother deserved a better life than what he could give him with a family and a picket fence. Sam hadn't needed Dean to complicate those things for him. The best thing he could have done for his brother was what he'd been doing all these years. Making the world a better place. Though with his name and face plastered all over the TV now, Dean wasn't quite sure how long he'd be able to keep this up now either.

There was one last thing that Dean could do for his brother and that was save his life. But he needed to findh8im first and for that he'd need a little halp from an old friend. The only one he'd kept from the old days. Dean flipped open his burner phine and dialed the number he'd from memory, hoping it would still connect.

"Singer Auto and Scrap Yard. How may I help you?" the gruff voice on the other line asked.

"Hey, bobby, How you doing?"

" I thought I told you to lose this number?" the voice growled on the other end.

"Look, I know, but bobby, it's about Sammy. He's in trouble. I just really need your help here," Dean didn't beg, but if he did, this is probably what it would sound like. "Consider it a last request."

A deep sigh came across the line followed shortly by a quite, "Alright kid, what trouble did you get yourself into this time?"

* * *

"I told you I really don't like halloween, Jess. and the costumes," Sam Made a face at his girlfriend as he turned the lock in the door. "Not that you don't look dead sexy in that nurse's-"

Sam's sentence was sut short by Jess' screams as Sam flicked on the lights to reveal his brotheer sitting on their couch.

"Dean," Sam said, taking a protective step in front of the blonde in the sexy nurse's outfit. "What are you doing here?"

Dean smiled up at his brother from his perch on the couch. "What? I can't stop by to see my little brother at school? Meet his girlfriend?" Dean shot a vharming smile at the girl cowering behind his brother. She flinched and retreated further behind Sam.

"Not after everything you've done. The cops were here all morning. I thought you'd died in some ditch and now I find out that you're a mass seirial killer. I'd rather you be dead." Sam spat the last comment in Dean direction.

"Yeah," Dean laughed, "well, you might just get your wish."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked suspisously, pushing Jess closer towards the still open door.

"It means that girl of your should get out of here while she still can," Dean advised standing up from his seat. Sam tensed raising his hands defensively.

"Now, now, Dean. The girl can stay," said a figure appearing in the doorway dressed in a ratty trench coat and a wicked smile. "After all the more the merrier, am I right?"

"You will not touch a hair on either of their heads as long as I'm still standing. Castiel, Angel of the lord? We'll see how much you're in God's favor when my knife is at your throat."

* * *

Castiel had heard the brothers talking down the hall. So sweet that he came to say his last good byes, Cas thought. Not many get to do that. It was only once he'd entered the room that he'd realized Dean's true intention was to try and stop him. It seemed the Righteous Man still had not come to realize what Dean was truly trying to do for him, for all of them really. Without Sam to worry about Dean would be free to complete his holy mission. The same mission he himself had been given; the one they would complete together.

That is why Castiel laughed at Dean's comment. "You doubt I am in God's favor when you yourself have been blessed with his good graces?"

"I don't believe in God," Dean said stalking towards the psycho killer standing next to his brother.

"But, he believes in you; and I'm going to prove it." Castiel grabbed for his brother's wrist, kicking the weak spot behind the knee to bring him closer to the ground.

Dean, not being able to reach his brother in time, grabbed the girl and pulled her behind him. "Go into the bedroom and don't come back out, you hear me?" Dean shouted at her. She stood there shaking, but didn't move to follow his orders. "NOW!" he screamed.

"Jess, do what he says," Sam said from where Cas had his blade at his throat. "Go, now. It'll be alright. Go."

Jess left, scurryig into the bedroom and closing the door. It was only after Dean heard the click of the lock that he turned back to Castiel, pulling a gun from his waist ban and aiming it straight right between the eyes.

"And now you're going to let my brother go," Dean ordered. "You're going to let him go and then we'll settle this like men."

"What? You mean by rolling around on the floor together until one of us pins the other to the ground?" Cas asked pushing his blade a little deeper into Sam's neck, a small tickle of blood sliding down the skin. "No, I don't think so. I'd rather just kill him now and get it over with."

"Alright," Dean said, cocking the gun. "Then why haven't you yet? Why don't you just kill him already?"

"For the same reason you haven't pulled the trigger. You don't understand yet," Castiel explained.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed, "What don't I understand?"

"What I'm trying to do for you Dean. I'm trying to free you." The man said that as if it were as obvious as the color of the walls in this room. "Without your brother there is nothing holding you back. No one you have to look out for any more. I'm giving you a second start. Don't you see? I'm getting rid of your only weakness."

Dean stared at him for a moment before saying, "You're fucking crazy." and shooting him square in the chest and then several more into his splayed body.

* * *

Castiel honestly didn't know where he'd gone wrong. the pain in his chest and the blood on his hands seemed to suggest that it may have happened long ago at a point long since forgotten by now. A shuddering cough brought even more blood out of his body.

As Castiel lay bleeding out on the floor of Sam's college apartment as Dean walked over to him. A sputtering laugh that turned into a cough sent blood dripping down his chin once more.

"What do you have to laugh about?" Dean asked, digging the heel of his boot into one of the more sensitive looking bullet wounds.

Another sputtering laugh mixed with a groan of pain as Castiel looked up at his assailant.

"You asked me if I had been save?" Castiel explained. "You have saved me."

"I saved you from nothing," Dean told him in a low voice. "I'm sending you straight to hell." Dean raised his gun and pointed it point blank between those piercing blue eyes. "Say hello to my father for me."

* * *

After Dean was sure that Castiel wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to his brother. Sam had a pretty nasty cut on his neck and it was bleeding pretty bad. Dean pulled off his jacket as he grabbed the phone from the side table by the door. Pressing the fabric into his brother's wound Dean called for an ambulance to arrive on the scene.

"Don't worry Sammy, they're on their way, It'll be alright," Dean promised holding the coat even tighter against his neck,

"Dean, Dean," Sam sputtered out, gripping to his brother's sleeve. "You s-saved me... from him."

"Course I did," Dean assured him. "What are big brothers for if not protect his little bro." Dean smiled down at him, brushing his hair back out of his face,

"B-but why?" Sma asked. "W-why kill any...one?"

"Got to keep you safe," Dean said, a tear threatening at his eye. "Got to keep you safe from people...people like dad."

"You-You killed Dad?" Sam asked, eyes widening.

"No," Dean says, the regret clear in his voice. If only he had then maybe... "No, but I saw it happen. It made me realize that the world was better off. Better off without people like him in the world. They need more people like you." Dean smiled down at his brother. He looked paler than he should and his eyes seemed a little more distant. "Sam, I want you to hear me. Can you hear me?" Dean asked shaking him a bit to get his attention. Sam's eyes opened just a fraction wider to show he was listening.

"Sam, that Cas guy, he got it all wrong, you hear? You are not my weakness. You are the only light I see at the end of this godforsaken tunnel. I believe in you. I believe that you'll do something great woth your life, so you better not die."

Dean could hear the the sirens wailing from a distance and knew it was time to leave. He looked around the room and spotted Sam's girlfriend, Jess was her name, peeking out of the bedroom door.

"Hey, you," Dean called. "You need to get over here. Hold this on there tight. The doctors will be here soon. Can you do that?"

The girl nodded, moving towards him cautiously before slowly taking his place. Once he was sure she had a tight enough hold on his brother he left. He left like he always did, hoping his brother would be ok without him.


End file.
